Moonturn
by Shirahoshi
Summary: ThorAU - Werewolves on Asgard are less then welcome. That's why Prince Loki had to flee after being exposed as one and lived his life as a lone wolf ever since, his memories and self slowly drifting away from him as the wolf grew stronger.
1. Chapter 1

The wolf was following the deer's track with his head hung low, trying to ignore the cold flakes of snow falling into his eyes.

He has to hurry before it covers the footprints and the scent with it. But it was so very hard; he hadn't eaten in days. That's why he missed the first lung, though he managed to injure the hinder leg of the deer.

It had been easier, once. He remembered a great room, long tables with people chattering around them happily, once or twice throwing a bone to the dogs as the friendly fire warmed the place in a hundred hearths.

It all seems like a dream from the hard truth of the winter forest now. He had been so very young, never parting from his mother for more than five minutes. She had always welcomed him with the same kindness and never seemed to be bothered by him practically clinging to her.

And there was another boy as well. With hair of gold and eyes the colour of the summer sky and always a kind word for him.

But there were others as well, who turned his kind words foul and hurting. He spent less time playing with him and more tormenting. The big, grey haired man who was also present at times rarely said a word, just sighed and shook his head, while he was trying to act as everything the blonde boy did didn't hurt him, as if it had been all fun for him too. So he wouldn't see his mother sad because of him. He had seen her sad enough times for the other one.

A twig snapped not far away as a small bird took off. He twitched as he spun around in surprise, baring his fangs at the harmless animal though it had been far from him by then. He growled at his own stupidity before turning and continuing on his way.

There were a few times when he let his guard down and it never ended well for him.

But there were good times as well. Once, he met a female of his kind. They spent three wonderful years together. Then, one day, she went to scavenge some food, then never returned. He found out later that she was caught by a trap which possibly immediately killed her. At least she didn't suffer long.

His path came to an abrupt end at a frozen lake, with the tracks going deeper in, before ending in a hole, already freezing over again.

Another day, another lost game. Another failure. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. But he couldn't let himself to stall for too long; there was a storm coming, a bad one. He could feel it in the wind. He had to get back to his shelter before it hit.

Somewhere, in the distance, another wolf howled. He didn't answer the call.

There was a strange smell around his chosen hideout. (It wasn't even that, not really. He had barely enough space to turn. But it served its purpose.) Foreign, but not entirely. His ears perked up as the wind brought the sounds of teeth chattering. A human.

It wouldn't hurt to check out how far he was exactly from his cave. Just to be sure he was safe.

The fire lit by the human was pathetically weak, threatening to go out any moment now, as the wind grew stronger and stronger by each passing moment. He was basically swaddled in thick layers of deer and bear skin, but it didn't seem to help much as he was trembling with cold, even though the worst of the wind avoided him, thanks to a smaller wall of rocks.

Clever choosing of place to stay, as far as possibilities went in this forest. Not as good as his hideout, but the man would not fit into that.

And behind him lay a piece of meat, just within his arm's reach. Another piece was being roasted on the fire. (Ha. As if it'd get edible enough for the human before it was extinguished by the combined forces of nature.)

What should it be? Return to his cave's safety, or eat?

In the end, hunger won. Big as he was, the man didn't seem to be in the best of healths, judging from the coughing, and besides, _he _was faster. He could tear his throat out sooner than he could grab either the hammer or knife lying near his hands would he notice the wolf trying to get the meat.

"I'm sorry, mother. It'd appear I failed, again."

It was hard to sneak close enough to grab the food without making a noise, but he managed. At least until he didn't knock a piece of rock over, too preoccupied by the target that was only a few steps ahead of him.

The great black wolf was ready to jump, but something stopped him as the man turned, the fur on his back rustling slightly. Was it the familiar scent that grew more noticeable with each passing meter?

Sky blue eyes looked into his own yellowish-green, the human's lips slightly parted, small clouds of breath escaping from his mouth that was surrounded by golden coloured beard.

They held that pose for some time, man and wolf.

It was long before the human spoke again.

"Loki," he said, reaching out, "Loki, is that you?"

He snarled, baring his fangs as a warning, before snapping at the man's outstretched hand, ignoring the feeling of something being _stirred_ inside. The man pulled his hand back slowly, but his eyes didn't left him.

"It's okay," he was speaking slowly, "It's me. It's Thor." He smiled, as if the name should mean something to him. "Your brother?" he asked hopefully.

At his blank glance, the smile wavered.

"Ah, Mother warned that this might happen. What was it, sixteen years? Yes, indeed," he nodded to himself, before looking back at him. "I suppose you're hungry. Here," he picked up the meat lying behind him, offering it with one gloved hand. The wolf stalked closer, sniffed at it, before taking it out carefully from between the thick fingers of the glove. All the while the man continued to speak.

"There, there. I'm not going to hurt you. Although apparently others did," his eyes slid over the long healed scars left by some trappers from when he was still careless, "Mother would be outraged if she'd knew."

The wolf edged backwards, torn between going and staying. The fire though tiny it was, was still more friendly than the cave that awaited him. And apparently the man didn't mean to do any harm to him.

_You thought the same about the others._

It didn't matter now, did it? He was apologising for something to his mother; and mothers were good. Warm. Their sons were rarely worse.

He settled down, and started devouring the meat as the man threw some wood at the fire.

"She is very scared for you, you know. Just like father. We all were."

The meat was slightly icy, but better than nothing.

"I guess, if you could talk right now and would not be so preoccupied with the meat, you'd call me a fool for coming here. Especially in this weather," the blonde male glanced upwards, "Let's hope the storm does not come here. That'd be a problem." For a time silence reigned. All that could be heard was him munching on the meat that slowly softened up under his breath and the fire crackly quietly. Then, after taking his own piece away from the fire, the human spoke again, "You remember when we were children? You used to climb every tree in sight," there was a chuckling sound, "I bet you don't much of that nowadays. Anyway, there was the time when you cut Sif's hair because she called you girlish. Remember? She chased you up a tree, but couldn't go after you, so she was yelling at you until her face was all red and you would just laugh. At least until Mother told you to come down. Then, you were the one who was red as an apple. You told her that if Sif called you girlish, then you simply wanted her to be a bit more boyish as she pretends to be one. That was one of the few time I remember mother actually scolding you. But you felt so bad for her in the end that you bought her a wig. She still has it you know," the wolf felt that the man glanced at him, "She wants you back just as much as we do, even if she'd never say it. Because she has nobody to challenge her intellectually, except for her King and Queen, that's her reasoning. As much a lie as the ones you used to spin for us after our adventures."

The fire crackled and an owl hooted not far away. The wind appeared to be growing weaker; it looked like the storm will avoid them. But it was never one-hundred percent sure.

"There was one time in Nornheim. The warriors just wouldn't stop coming and Fandrall and Volstagg were already already injured, so you conjured up some smoke and later told Eir that it was an especially foul-tempered bilgesnipe that did it to them."

He felt his fur bristle as something touched his neck carefully and started stroking it. He didn't even notice when the human moved.

"Or when we ventured to get back Mjöllnir from that giant. You said one lie after the other without even blinking. I think I'll never live wearing a maid's wedding dress down. I have you to thank for that." The hand stopped, now simply resting at his neck.

"And when an actual especially foul-tempered bilgesnipe attacked us and I didn't have Mjöllnir... It's only because of you survived," the man let out a choked noise, "And you had to flee because of me. I'm so sorry, brother."

Something warm rushed through the wolf's body.

"_Brother! Brother, come look at this!_"

"_I told you ten times, Thor! I care not about another stupid sword trick._" His head was pulled into the burly man's lap.

"It's my fault. I've been thinking about how could I make amendments ever since. Then, Mother and Heimdall both lost sight of you... Not even the ravens could find you. I'm sorry. For everything."

Something hot and wet fell onto his muzzle.

The man was crying. But why was he crying?

"Do you think you can forgive me? I know I could not."

His tongue flicked out, wiping away the tears that threatened to fall, causing the man to chuckle.

Whoever this man's brother is, he must be much loved.

"Can you even hear me?"

The wolf blinked. Of course he could. He was lying in his lap; he could hear him just fine.

"If you can; please come back to us. Please."

They slept like that, warming each other; the fire, however weak looking still blazing bravely into the darkness, scaring away the fears and monsters, at least for that one night.

The human slept and hoped.

The wolf slept and dreamt of a Queen-mother, a King-father and two boys, different as day and night, yet brothers in everything, but blood.

* * *

**Loki's behaviour differs from other wolves because he is used to humans around him.**

**Obviously, as he could turn into one by will. He's a werewolf, ex-prince of Asgard, where werewolves are not exactly welcome. He doesn't remember Thor (well, not really) because he was in wolf form for too long.**

**This fic was inspired by Florbe91's small comic-strip-thingy.**


	2. Chapter 2

Thor awoke with a start, to a world dressed in white, sparkling like crystals. The fire had long burnt itself out which wasn't a wonder; it is wont to do so if it's not fed properly.

Ungrateful things, fires are, he mused. You feed them, you take care of them, yet they either burn out or do much more than giving sufficient light and warmth.

He groaned as he stood up; the cold has settled itself in his bones overnight. It's a wonder he didn't freeze to death.

Though apparently his prayers were answered and the storm avoided him and...

His eyes widened at the fresh track of the footprints of a wolf leading away from his small camp.

Loki.

It can't be. He just found his brother and had already lost him.

Because it _had_ to be him. A normal wolf wouldn't have let him that close. And even if it had been another werewolf playing at the free food, there was that scar just beneath his ear...

He sat back onto the ground, but this time at a place where the rock was already warmed up by the sun as much as it will be likely to get in wintertime.

Loki was gone. Again. Because he didn't get up earlier.

Thor surpressed a cough. He hoped that last night he broke through the wolf and got to his brother, but apparently he was mistaken.

Something pulled on his furs from behind. He turned in surprise to find himself face to face with his brother. The wolf gave him a meaningful look, turned his head towards the line of trees, then at him again.

"You know, it'd be easier if you'd just turn back. We wouldn't have to play these "guess what I thought of" games," Thor spoke. The animal cocked his head comically a lot like Loki as human when he said something foolish or absurd, before turning around and galloping off towards the trees.

Thor had no choice but to follow him.

For a while the older paw-prints were steady, before the snow was suddenly stirred up, as if Loki had leaped at something. And indeed, drops of blood were splattered across the white sheet, leading to a place where the bushes grew thicker. An obviously excited wolfhead popped out from between the twigs, before disappearing once more.

"Coming, coming," Thor murmured, coughing quietly into his gloves. Him and the cold never agreed with each other when it came to withstanding the weather below freezing point for longer periods of time.

* * *

The deer couldn't have suffered much, if the two precise bite marks were anything to go by. Apparently it had gotten close to them, so Loki, noting that he was running low on food, went and killed it. He was sitting not too far away, tail waggling slightly behind himself, with an expecting look on his face.

"So that's what you wanted to show me," he said, picking out his knife. "I didn't know you have become such an adequate hunter in the meantime, brother."

He well remembered the first time Father had taken the two of them hunting. Back then, Loki didn't know what he was yet, and fainted when the first blow to the deer drew blood, but did not kill the animal, only incapacitated it.

The wolf yapped and turned his head, as if he was offended. Thor laughed silently, before reaching out to ruffle his fur, but the animal shied back. The man simply smiled and hold his hand still.

"It's all right. Last night you slept on me; don't start this now. It's too late for that to be believable."

Loki's ears perked up as he cautiously nipped at the thick fingers of the glove gently, before pulling it off with a quick yank and running a few steps, out of arm's reach.

"You're the worst," Thor informed him, preparing for his task, tugging the sleeves of his coat a slightly more up, then removed the other glove so it wouldn't get all bloody. When his job was done, the meat neatly sliced and wrapped up in his bag, he rubbed his hands with snow to get as much blood off as he could before he chased Loki down for the glove's pair.

"We should get moving," he said, pulling up the glove onto his hand victoriously before slinging the pack across his back. The wolf looked up from the remains of the deer, his muzzle stained red. "I have seen a more protected cave, around a half days walk from here. We'd be better off there, were a storm to hit."

Or bandits. Before the snow started falling, he had seen numerous humanoid footprints in the woods.

Thor turned, lifting a hand to protect his eye against the assault of the sunlight; while he was working, he didn't realise how much time passed by.

He started walking, hoping Loki would follow. A quick backwards assured him that he did.

* * *

This two legged creature was a funny thing.

He'd spin around knife in hand when it was only a leaf that had fallen and was completely oblivious to the presence of the shadowcats drawn by his constant coughing.

The sound worried the wolf. For some reason, even though something told him not to trust the human, he couldn't help, but care. Even if he seemed to be determined to call him "Loki" or "brother" at times.

Those names didn't mean anything to him. It might have once; but he had so many that he couldn't remember what was his _real _name. It might have been something else entirely, and the poor man is mistaking him for someone else of his kind.

The man had also more times asked him to "turn back", which he also ignored. He wasn't human. He learned that a long time ago. And pretending was not welcomed, he was taught by some men stronger than he, when he didn't have his speed, but two too long legs, and his fangs, but two clumsy hands. So why would he want to "turn back" into something that is weak, of whose existence is constantly filled with fear for the uncertain?

And then there was the Presence. It appeared sometime during the first night, and apparently didn't think about leaving anytime soon, making itself known was he to forgot about it for a moment.

It was a bother. He thought that sometimes he had seen it moving in the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was gone, then appeared on the other side. This kind of sudden spinnings sometimes made Thor - because that was the human's name - wary; at other times he laughed it off in "snapping at shadows, brother?".

But it never hurt them. All it did was urge him forward, to protect this two-legged silly oaf, who risking his own health, marched into the least welcoming forest of Northern Alfheim, to find that brother of his and only finding him instead.

Oh, they did know each other, once upon a lifetime. The bits and pieces of a memory about a blonde boy made him certain of that; it couldn't be anyone else.

But he wasn't the person Thor was looking for; it was the black haired boy. Yet, he hoped that the blonde will find him. And he fully intended to help him with it.

The Gods would do better and repay the human's suffering in the cold vastness for days, for such a reason.

* * *

Just as the meat starts to run out with no village in sight (contrary to Thor's hopes), they come across a stream covered with pale white ice. The man's face brightened.

"We could fish here. What do you think?"

The idea in itself was good, except that he started out all wrong; he clearly didn't fish too much in his life.

For instance, he had chosen the worst possible place to fish, concerning the thickness of the ice.

And it was no feeble ice of Midgard. This was _true _ice.

"Brother, what possessed you when you chose a hideout where one cannot even _fish_?" Thor grumbled, as he tried and failed to cut a hole into the frozen water.

He yapped at the blonde, enjoying the sight of him struggling, before the human sat back miserably onto a piece of wood, cleared from the snow.

"It's impossible. I, the Mighty Thor, am defeated by mere ice. I'll never live the shame down."

The wolf let out an exasperated sigh, before turning and starting to jog down on the stream, his tail standing like a flag.

"Loki? Where are you going?"

He stopped, looking back, before continuing on his way. Could he really not tell that he wished the two-legged being to follow?

Judging from the heavy footsteps behind him, he realised.

They went on for good half an hour; him, listening to the water rushing underneath the ice and the human, huffing and puffing underneath the heavy furs, struggling to keep up, before he stopped. The water here could be heard well, so neither the snow-blanket, nor the ice shield was too thick, but still strong enough to bear the man's weight.

"And what now?" the blonde asked, looking puzzled. His ears perked up, and clawed at the snow underneath him. What could be a more clear message?

Yet, the man still didn't understand, so he repeated the motion.

"You want me... To fish here?" Thor asked, realisation dawning on his face. He gave a short bark as confirmation. The two-legged shook his head in disbelief.

"Lectured by my little brother on _where _to fish. The Norns have a sense of irony."

Whether the Norns were actual beings and capable of irony at that, the wolf didn't know. He only knew where is the preferable pace to cut the hole with the least problem.

He layed down, settling his head on his paws as he watched the man get to work.

* * *

**Loki does remember Thor, though not much. And it's as if he was a third party in the memory; he sees himself and Thor from the outside. **

**If counting in human years, Loki had to run when he was sixteen. He is now thirty-two, and had been a wolf for nine. He met Sigyn when he was twenty. And since the Werewolves do not have the memory span of an elephant, they do forget. And they forget quicker while in wolf form.**

**Oh, by the way, although I refer to him as such, Thor is not ****_exactly _****human. Here, Aesirs are an evolved kind of humans, and "human" refers more to the shape, than to the actual being from planet Earth. :)**


End file.
